


The Best Thing Would To Have Never Been Born at All

by PaperAnn



Series: PaperAnn's Kink Bingo 2017 Works [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Bottom Endverse Castiel, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Abuse (Endverse Dean), Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Worth Issues, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2017, Switch Dean Winchester, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: After seeing what Dean’s future self has done to the camp and to Cas, he knows his conscience won’t let him walk without a confrontation.  Dean knows damn well what the play is tomorrow and, after a chat with Castiel (who doesn’t seem to care one way or another) Dean drags the fallen angel along for the negotiation.  To show him, their 'fearless leader,' there are still people who love him and will do anything for him.  Even if he can be a complete jackass.Dean knows Dean’s worst enemy is himself.  Except...he just woke a sleeping dragon and he hadn’t anticipated a fight in the literal sense.In the wake of the shocking wickedness, Cas and Dean are left to pick up their own pieces, broken from a monster who can’t be saved.





	The Best Thing Would To Have Never Been Born at All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017  
> Square Filled: Deancest
> 
> **Ann's Notes:** Hot damn. This turned into a full-fledged fic and, while it hits the bingo square, so much plot happened I couldn't help myself! But seriously, I'm actually really happy with how this turned out as a complete work inspired by the prompt. I know it's not a short, smutty oneshot, but a true, solid fic and I hope you give it a read :) 
> 
> Yes—this **is non-con** and SPOILER: it's the Dean/Endverse Dean scene. You'll see it coming, I promise, and loooots of things happen in this almost-10k fic lol
> 
> I gotta give a standing ovation to [Kayla](http://kaylamariemarrero.tumblr.com/) on this one, she kicked ass beta reading this beast! Love ya, girly!
> 
>  
> 
> Title inspired by the quote:
> 
> _Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all._  
>  -Heinrich Heine

The more Dean mulled over this universe, this “future,” the more things stood out to him that just weren’t right, the more the plans for tomorrow didn’t make sense, and the less he could sleep.  He had a feeling there weren’t many around who did got some real z’s.  It was hard to catch a real REM cycle when you were always on the defensive for a Croat attack, but Dean was hoping for someone in particular to be up.

He’d been told seeing two of them freaked people out.  As if the end of the world wasn’t freaky enough!  But whatever!  Dean wouldn’t bother these people who were always on a hair-trigger.  He’d play the game this _one time._ It was strangely easy to snatch up a random zip-up with a hood and flipped it over his head to stay incognito.

With his hands jammed into his pockets and his nose to the ground, Dean began wandering around the camp.

It had to be well after midnight, but just as he suspected, many of the people were still up anyway.  There was a fire going, Future-Him’s people staring off, blankly, into the flames.  It was as if their souls had been sucked out and they had been left high and dry, with nothing to live for.   _God_ , it was so depressing.  Yeah, Dean supposed the situation garnered some serious misery, but still...  
  
It didn’t make sense!  This _wasn’t_ how he’d lead, damn it!  Dean would give these people hope.  Even when they thought all was lost, even if _he_ didn’t believe it himself.  Hell, he was the best fucking liar there was!

And that’s why— 

A stray trail of smoke up in the air caught his attention.  It was like a streamline of silver backed by the moonlight, guided up to the Heavens on a rooftop.  If that didn’t read Cas-missing-his-wings, Dean didn’t know what did.

He quickly darted across the lawn and looked for the best way to reach the top.  There was some old climbing ivy on the side of the building that was all dead, but the thick vines were the next best thing.  You didn’t have to be a damn rock climber to make it up.  Dean easily scaled the two stories until he reached the roof.

The abrasive material was almost like sandpaper and he cursed out, “Goddammit!” the second his hands scraped along the surface.  No doubt, that’d leave a fucking mark.

Dean had to kick his leg up, get his hoodie-clad arm up, something, _anything_ with some friggin fabric for grip.  Because these shingles?  Sucked a huge dick.

Still, when he was at the top and he glanced over at Cas with his huge blue eyes and his open, hysterical laughter.  
  
It was worth it.  Yeah, his Cas wasn’t like _this_ , but to see the fallen angel genuinely cracking up about something that wasn’t self-deprecating or dark humor?  That was a win—he'd take it.

“What can I do to help you this evening, Dean?” he asked, lighting up a new cigarette.  “You obviously made an effort to locate me.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and scooted right on over, turning down an offered smoke.  “I just...was wondering about some stuff.  A lot of stuff.”

“Well, I believe you should begin at the beginning,” Castiel said, and on a deep exhale, “Or start with what’s troubling you the most.”

Dean pursed his lips.  That _was_ the million dollar question, wasn’t it?  What troubled him the most was fucking _everything_.  But so many small things were wrong and it had nothing to do with the angels, with Michael and Lucifer, because he didn’t believe in this universe.  He couldn’t believe in the way they’d changed.  Maybe that was the first thing?

“What happened to us?” Dean asked him point-blank.

It actually caused Cas to choke on the smoke before he grinned and shook his head fondly.  “Was that starting at the beginning or what’s your apex bother?”  He teased lightly, “You wish for me to ruin our Greek Tragedy and spoil all the fun?”

“So we do get together?”  Dean knew it.  He knew the feeling he already had for the angel would somehow manifest larger, out of his hands, but he didn’t like the way Cas had said “Greek Tragedy.”  “Hey, different world.  I wanna...do right by you.

The sheer surprise, shock, and sorrow on Castiel’s face broke Dean’s goddamn heart.  This, wow.  It really hadn't been the right place and time for them.  He acted on instinct and reached out to take his free hand, which Cas flinched at and nearly pulled away from before he realized this was a _comfort_.  Wait.  Just from his expression when he recoiled—    
  
...Did that mean...?  Had the Dean here...?

“I miss past you,” Cas said, with more conviction than ever, and squeezed his hand.  “We shouldn’t have pushed our feelings away as long as we did.  We may have had a chance if we explored our relationship in a...healthy environment.  Except, you—I mean, _Dean_ —came out with it more in a burst of adrenaline after a messy situation.  And therefore, _we_ became a messy situation.  We were only ‘we’ when Dean needed to let off some steam.”

“Are you fucking with me?”  He was honestly in shock, wondering what the hell had tainted his own mind, hell—his own _heart_ —so much that he’d do that to anyone.  Let alone Cas.  “Is that really _it_?”

“We don’t have much of anything now.  Not anymore.  I love him.  With all my heart.  If I only had that, what we had back then, it would be all right.  Until he figured it was fine to ‘let off some steam’ with others, too.  When I realized I was one of many, I realized I had nothing.  I _was_ nothing.  The moment I did the same,” a wry, forced smirk tugged at the edges of his face, “Dean...showed me I was wrong.”

“Fuck.  Fuck!  I wanna kick his ass!”  If he didn’t already know the roof was fuckin’ dangerous, he would have slammed his fist down in fury and punched it.

“It’s not your fight.  It doesn’t matter.  Like you said, you still have a chance.  To ‘do right by me,’” Castiel released Dean’s hand to make the air quote and his heart about melted.  “What other concerns did you have?”

“The plan tomorrow.  It doesn’t make sense.  I’ve gone over it and over it, so many times, and on the surface, it’s good, but then, I started thinking.  Like _me_ ,” Dean exhaled something shaky as he divulged, “I threw a plan like this together before.  It was something that I learned from my dad...a game plan only me and Sammy knew.  And do you know what it was for, Cas?”

He was hanging on his every word and leaning forward, curiosity piqued.  “This has been used before?”

“Yeah.  It was used for _decoys_.  Dad and me had a team together.  We were rescuing one of our friends who’d been kidnapped out of a building.  And the rest of the team...they were _bait_.  Against other humans without guns.  They were _distractions_.”  He pronounced every word very deliberately.  “Do you get it?”

The fallen angel’s eyes widened in understanding, “Except we are decoys.  Worthless cannon fodder, going in against demons.  We are unaware of our part and we _will_ die.  While, what?  Dean finds Lucifer?”

“That’s why I needed to talk to you.  I figured you may still be someone who can get through to him.  This is a suicide mission, Cas!  For everyone involved!  He—”

“Dean,” Cas snorted and heavily rolled his eyes. “Dean is not going to listen to me.”  He paused and made a face. “That was extremely confusing.”

“Trust me on this, buddy.  No matter what time, what universe, we love you.  And the person we hate the most?  Is _ourselves_.  So we’ve gotta talk him out of this.  I know I don’t belong in this world.  I could get pulled back at any time.  That doesn’t mean that I intend to leave it worse than I found it,” Dean urged, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder and tugging.  “Please?  Can we try?”

Castiel closed his eyes and said slowly, “Let me finish this cigarette,” and then reached into his pocket to grab some pills.

Dean watched him wordlessly take a small handful, but didn’t comment.  He realized the wreckage that his fallen angel had become and he knew it was entirely because of jaded-him.  It hurt.  Knowing that he alone had ruined this angel.  Dean meant it when he said if he could save them, he would.  Dean didn’t know why it was so important. Proving those asshole angels wrong?  Helping these people with familiar faces?  ...Saving Cas?  It didn’t matter.  He’d help.

As they hopped down from the hell-roof and marched across the camp to Dean’s cabin, Cas warned him, “Don’t be too combative.  Please.  It’s imperative.  He’ll...”  His voice trailed off because there was movement in the shadows cast from the light under the door.

Dean wanted to get down to it, firmly knocking as Cas crossed his arms and waited.  The shadows came closer and soon, his mirror image was staring him down again, looking annoyed and asking, “What?  Are you two teamed up now or something?”

“We need to talk. About tomorrow.  I wanted Cas here for his input on the plan.”  
  
He groaned, but let them inside.  Dean pretty damn sure it was because he didn’t want a doppleganger walking around.  Or maybe a battle strategy was something he’d actually listen to right now since he was too high-and-mighty to be bothered any other time.

“Have a seat.”  He gestured to the table in the middle of the small cabin.  Just when Dean thought this might be all right, future-him sneered, looking the fallen angel head to toe, addressing them both, “Heh, bringing the puppy along.  Sure it ain’t got nothing to do with our previous crush on him, does it?”

“Current,” Dean corrected instantly, especially after the way he saw Cas wilt.  “I’m still in love with him.  Which is why I wouldn’t be sending him off on a suicide mission as a _decoy_ so you could take a half-cocked shot at Lucifer.”

His future self abruptly shot up from the table they were sitting at, and moved swiftly—a clear sign he’d been found out.  He ducked around to peer into his bedroom.  Dean gruffly argued against a muffled, quiet voice, ordering, “No. Tomorrow!  This is serious.  Hit the road.”

The two sat there, waiting, as one of the women from camp, barely having pulled her clothes on and appearing thoroughly rumpled, stomped through the cabin and out the doorway.

“Nice to see you’re taking our upcoming deaths seriously,” Castiel mocked, kicking his feet up on the table.  The proof was undeniable.

After all, he’d fight, he’d deny it up and down, especially if there was a woman in his bed, and then kick Cas and Dean out.  But if he was caught red handed and there was no way of getting out of it, he couldn’t afford any witnesses.  This was an interesting conundrum.  Dean needed the other him, who was now pissed the hell off, to change the plan.   
  
But even with everything going on, Dean could’ve never missed Cas’ reaction to the woman warming Dean’s bed traipsing out.  Dean, sitting beside the fallen angel, immediately noticed the way Cas prickled right up.  Still... _to this day,_ he loved the asshole.  No matter what he’d become.  Fuck, did it hurt to watch.

“Why are you siding with him?” Now that the woman was gone, Dean demanded to Cas, waving at Dean dismissively, and accusing, “Is it because _he’ll_ still fuck you?  Because that’s not my fault!  You’re the one who—”

“Cas has nothing to do with you killing your people!” Dean slammed his hands down on the table, leaning forward and glaring fiercely.  “You _know_ I know Dad’s move.  Now, you’re either gonna change your approach or you’re cancelling the mission all together.  You got that?”

“And you think you can come in here, order me around, and tell me how to run _my_ camp?”  His eerie twin changed his posture to match his, tilting his head to the side.  “You have no idea the things I’ve _seen_ out there.  The things I’ve _done_.  This is our one chance to ice the Devil!  I’ve got the goddamn Colt!  I’ve got a team who will do whatever it takes to end this!  What the fuck do _you_ have?”

Dean snorted with a grin and didn’t hold back.  He went for the knock-out.  “ _I’ve_ got a brother who loves me and _won’t_ say yes.   _I’ve_ got an angel who I’m gonna confess my feelings for when I get home and I’m gonna treat him right.   _I’ve_ got—”

Apparently, that was too much because with a whip-like crack, Dean’s head was facing the side and his jaw was throbbing from a sucker punch.  He was lucky he didn’t hit the ground and that was only because Cas had rushed out from his chair and caught him.  He balanced Dean and brought him up to stand while the future Dean glared dangerously.

With pure venom, he grabbed the front of Dean’s hoodie and hissed, “You may think Sam won’t say yes, but he will!  He fucking will!  That’s why you need to be ready to say ‘yes’ to Michael the goddamn _second_ he asks you to.  It’s your only shot!  One that _I_ missed.  One that I regret every fucking day!  One that will haunt your dreams every fucking night!”

“Heh,” Dean scoffed and hated it because while Cas was jaded and sorrowful, this was the man who had damaged everyone.  He could see why.  He was nothing but bitterness and anger.  “Yeah, I’d just love to welcome him in!  Give a ride to an archangel who uses and abuses me, kinda reminds me of someone else in the room.  I think I’ll pass.  And you?  I know what _your_ problem is.. _Dean,_ ” he emphasized their name and it made the man twitch.  “We’re our own worst enemies.  Which is why you hate me.  Because I’m you, but _before_ you ruined us.  You did a damn good job, too.”

Before he knew what was happening, some switch flipped and Dean was punching his image in the gut, forcing him to double over.  “You’re damn right you’re gonna welcome him in!  Let him use you and abuse you!  Unless—” He grabbed a fistful of his hair and at this point, Cas surged forward.

“Dean!  Stop it!  This is unnecessary and pointless!”  He tried to pry the pair apart, tried to free Dean’s past self, and it worked.  For a second.

He tumbled to the ground, groaning because he was pretty sure that dickwad had broken a fucking rib!  But—oh hell—now _Cas_ was going head-to-head with him!  That’s _not_ what he wanted!  Not why he’d brought him along! That was the last thing—

“It’s so easy for you to put yourself on the line for him.   _Why_?  All you care about is getting high!  Did he suck you off?  Did he bend over for you?  Or did you spread your legs for him, you goddamn whore?!”

Dean heard a slap and his attention instantly flew up to see that Castiel had been the one to backhand the asshole across the face.  Except now, Dean was terrified of retaliation.  His blood ran cold.   _He_ needed to be the focus.  He needed to draw the fire away from Cas!

“Don’t talk to him like that, you prick!  You used to love him!  You used to fucking care!  You still can.  There’s time.  Jesus, it’s as easy and not sending your people off to the slaughter and—” Dean quickly realized not a word out of his mouth was being listened to because the future versions of himself and Cas were locked into a heated stare down.

“Is that what you want?” Dean’s voice was robotic and terrifying. “Some brat who doesn’t even know you, the _real_ you, protecting your honor?  As if you have any.”

“I used to.  I gave up everything.  For _you_.  I realize now how foolish I was to think you could ever love me back.”  Castiel was equally icy.  “You had me just where you wanted me, but instead you couldn’t keep your dick out of—”

“That’s enough!”  Dean was finally getting to his feet at the same time the other him grabbed Cas by the throat and tossed him against a wall.  “You don’t get to say that!  You don’t have the right.  You lost that!  I can stick my dick anywhere I want, Cas, and if I remember correctly—” A wicked grin illuminated and twisted his features—“This one still hasn’t gotten fucked by you yet, has he?”

Castiel paled from where he was slouched and shouted, “Stop it!  What is wrong with you?!”

Fuck, Dean _knew_ he could move fast, but not as fast as his reflection!  While the years may not have been good to him in the way he’d completely lost his heart and his mind, _but_ he was every bit the fighter—if not _more_ ferocious—as he slammed Dean down against the table with his arms pinned behind his back.  Dean was reeling from the collision of the impact against the hardwood.  He had to blink a few times to see things clearly.  Undeniably, he had a concussion.

He could see Cas watching him with fear, but he knew he couldn’t get up.  He knew—

Dean finally realized he was folded in half over the table and both his jeans and boxers had been yanked down. _Waitaminute_ —There was no way!

He began to struggle against the way he was utterly restrained and pinned, growling, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you sick fuck?!”

“I’m helping you.”  He laughed out and Dean could feel something spit-slick beginning to press against his hole— _oh God, no_!  “I’m getting you ready for _two_ angels.  For Michael and for dear ol’ Cas to fuck you senseless.”  He began to slide into Dean’s clenching, protesting hole—Jesus _fuck_ —it hurt!  It burned as he added another finger too soon and Dean tried to relax so he wouldn't fucking tear anything!  
  
He knew the hold he was in.  He knew there was no escaping it!  Dean tried to struggle, tried to throw his legs back and fucking kick his shadow’s kneecap out!  But he was too fast.  He was getting too much disgusting, fucked up pleasure from this. He just laughed at him.  Dean _refused_ to give, but he knew there was no way out. It was goddamn _impossible_ . Especially with his vision going hazy, in and out of focus.  
  
Dean had no idea if that was the concussion or the pain—

When the fingers were replaced by a cockhead, he turned his focus while sinking in.  He hummed out, “We had fun in the beginning, didn’t we, Cas?”

Dean felt sick.  He felt every friggin millimeter of his cock, yes, his _own goddamn cock_ , and then in a sharp jolt of white-hot pain when he slammed in the rest of the way.

“Cas?  I asked you a question.”

“Y-Yes, Dean.”  His voice was trembling.  Dean knew he was humoring him for his sake as he all but collapsed against the table.

Without giving him any time, he started rocking his hips in and out.  Dean was clenching his jaw trying to focus on something else, but Cas’ face was caught up in the moment and it wasn’t helping!  He could feel the prickling of tears as the pace quickened and his cock plunged inside, working against his virgin, basically dry, screaming rim.

His future self’s breathing was labored and he even had the audacity to moan while he fucked Dean raw, casting a glance back to Cas.  He asked lewdly with punctuated, deliberate thrusts that made Dean actually cry out, “This something out of a wet dream, angel?  Bet you never saw _this_ coming.  Know I didn’t.  But speaking of coming...”  He picked up the pace and Dean prayed the torture was almost over. “This is the tightest hole in camp.  Everyone else is fucking like it’s the end of the world.  Especially you.”

Dean didn’t know who he felt worse for.  His poor, beaten, and undeniably torn hole or Cas because of the pure emotional torment future-him was putting him through.  All he knew was that he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

The horrifying thing about this was that he knew his body.  He knew the ways that he moved when he was close, the ways to push himself over the ledge and get off.  And— _fuck,_ it was all going to be over soon.

A long moan rang out and he blew his load inside of Dean, the hot rush of cum actually helping as lubrication that he’d only gotten for a blink at the very beginning.  He opened his eyes and saw Castiel with his head hung between his knees, hands over his head.

Dean was constantly in and out of it.  When his mirror pulled out, the asshole pulled his boxers and jeans right back up.  Dean could _feel_ cum beginning to leak down into his clothes when they were ordered, “Get out.  Both of you.”  It was a dangerous warning; a threat.  “If you spew off _any_ bullshit about our plan tomorrow?  You’ll be sorry you did.”

Cas was racing forward to grab Dean from where he was still hunched, doubled over on the table, trying to get him up.  Castiel ducked down to loop Dean’s arm around his neck and shoulder as Cas spat back bitterly, “You’re depraved, Dean.  If I had my sight, your soul would resemble more demon than human.”

The fallen angel obviously knew he was playing with fire, because he picked up the pace, heading for the door and helping Dean as he heard quick footsteps behind them.  Luckily, it was a slammed door rather than another strike and they were out into the midnight air.  

Dean wasn’t sure when it happened, how much or how little help he was, but he eventually found himself all but naked back in Cas’ space.  Fuck, he must have blacked out.  His first reaction was a yelp because he was laying on his side and there was yet another intrusive touch around his goddamn wrecked—

“Shh, Dean, it’s me.  I...wanted to clean you up.  Put something on to heal you.”  When Dean looked over his shoulder, Cas was frowning, full of sorrow and regret.  “Will you just relax for a moment and let me do this?  I promise it will help.  Just...trust me.”

And he did.  He took a deep breath and turned back around, facing forward.  His teeth were ground together and his nose to pick up some kind of scent cream or salve?  Either way, Cas’ fingers were, _yep_ , right there coating his rim, inside and out. The fucked up thing about it was..

This is something he _could have_ enjoyed.

If he hadn’t just gotten raped by himself (how fucked up was that?), he would have desired the feel of Cas’ deft fingers soothing him, Dean letting him take control, giving him the love he deserved rather than this bullshit nightmare he was surrounded by.    
  
All of it, every last bit, it was a terrible joke.  He knew that Cas felt responsible, so the first thing he had to do, after Cas removed his hand and pulled up some fresh boxers (shit, when did he get half-hard?) was tell him.

“Cas,” his voice sounded like it had been scrambled and put back together.  “None of this is your fault.  Thank you for taking care of me.  Always manage to get myself into trouble no matter where I go, hell, no matter _what_ timeline.  No matter what universe.  I’ll always get into trouble.”

“This isn’t trouble, Dean!” Cas’ voice had an edge of desperation to it.  “I shouldn’t have provoked him.  I needed to remember my place.  If _I_ wasn’t there, this never, _ever_ would have happened and I am _so sorry_ that it—”

“Hey,” Dean reached up, finally taking in his surroundings and realizing he was in Cas’ bed.  “Get down here,” he soothed, cupping the weary man’s face.

It was almost like the fallen angel had given up.  It wasn’t like he wanted to, but what happened to Dean had been too much.  Cas still followed the instruction, set the things aside on the ground (the bed was reminiscent of a futon), and laid next to Dean.  Even though Dean had reached out to cup Cas’ cheek, they weren’t touching at all.  Not even holding hands.  Nothing.  This made him frown deeply.

Dean knew damn well he wasn’t going to lay on his back, so he went ahead and draped himself across Cas’ chest, resting his head in the crook of Cas’ neck.  It felt fucking amazing.  There was no doubt in his mind that the second he got home that the confession was the first thing he’d tackle.  Because _this_ Cas?  He froze up underneath him, and _nothing_ about that was acceptable.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked seriously.  “I thought that this would be...”    
  
Then he wondered if he’d been too bold.  Simply assuming that any angel in any timeline was his.  This Cas had heavily alluded to it, but it wasn’t _explicitly_ said so.

“I don’t deserve this.  I want it so badly, but I don’t deserve it.  I was _helpless_.  I couldn’t do anything to stop him.  I tried to fight him off right away, but he threw back his coat to make sure I saw his gun.  I wish I could end _all_ of this.”  The determination in his voice was fierce, but Dean didn’t like that last part.

“Cas, don’t want to end it all.  You’re so much better than that.  Fuck, if he threatened you with a gun?  I didn’t even know that, and still, _I_ couldn’t stop him.  You wouldn’t have been able to either.  He kicked us when we were down.  He made sure to destroy you, break your heart, and I hate that.  You _don’t_ deserve that. You tried as hard as you could and I—”

Finally, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and kissed his forehead, “Don’t worry about me.  Please.  Tell me how you’re feeling?”

Of course, that was typical Cas.  Except, the kiss was brand-spankin’ new, even though it felt like the most natural thing.  Fuck, if Dean didn’t want more.  But...would that be unfair to _his_ Cas?  Things were so skewed and confusing, like an existential crisis twenty-four seven here.

He coughed before he spoke up, remembering the question.  “Think I’ve got a bruised or broken rib.  I can feel a helluva shiner.  Obviously down below _kills_.  So, uh, you were there.  What’s the damage?”  Dean didn’t know why he felt awkward discussing the literally _medicinal_ side of this.  After all, Cas had just watched him get fucked by..him, up close and personal.

“You do have a tear along your...opening.  By the time I managed to get you here, the bleeding had stopped.  Unfortunately, I wanted to cleanse you of him completely, of what happened.  And by doing that, I reopened the wound.”  He huffed with frustration, but Dean knew that sound.  Castiel was annoyed with _himself_.  “Sitting may hurt, but I do have pain medication that will surely help—”

“Nah, I’m good.”  Dean had an inkling and he crossed his arms on Cas’ chest, raising his body just far enough up that they could actually see each other.  “This was personal.  An attack on you, and the reason you’re so pissed...”  Now, Cas looked anxious which only confirmed his suspicions.  “It was supposed to be you, wasn’t it?  You were supposed to take away my virginity.”

“I...” His jaw just sort of hung open because he couldn’t deny it.  “Yes, Dean.  It actually happened to be a lovely night, before everything...went off the rails.  Before he even started becoming what he is now.  But I’m afraid it was too little, too late.”

“Soon as I get home, I’m going right to you and I’m gonna do it.  I’m gonna tell you I love you and I hope you’ve started to...change enough that it doesn’t freak you out.”  Dean couldn’t help it. He brushed his cheek against Castiel’s beard, craving the closeness.  “You need to promise me that you’re not gonna follow that fuckwad into battle tomorrow, okay?”

“I—” Castiel looked visibly aroused by their proximity and tried to keep his breath steady and even, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to deny you.  No matter what form you take.  I’ll follow you to the grave.  And if what you said is true?  If it gives Dean a chance to take out Lucifer then...I accept.”

“Dammit, Cas!  Can’t you care about you even a fraction of how much _I_ care about _you_?!  You’re always running off, being the martyr!  I can’t deal with that!  I—”

“I’ve been around this long, haven’t I?  You know, Dean,even without my grace—” he boldly snickered and gently ran his fingers through Dean’s hair.  “God, you’re beautiful.   _Your_ soul is so bright.  Although I’m nearly blind, I can still see little, tiny glimmers breaking through.”

He began to close the distance and that was when Dean’s split-second decision came into play.  Damn it, he couldn’t keep away!   _This_ Castiel.  He was so close to breaking.  How could Dean thank the man who would follow him anywhere?  Who looked out for him, dragged his blacking-out ass back to home base and attempt to make him even remotely _clean_ again?  Erased physical evidence that it happened?  Go ahead and jump-start the healing process.

On the same token, if Dean wanted his Cas, he had to be loyal and he needed to begin now.  He couldn’t come back from the future, wrecked from an amazing make-out and then profess, “I’m in love with you!  Let’s be together!”  Yeah, no, it didn’t work like that.

Still—they were in _this_ timeline.   _This_ universe.  His Castiel wasn’t here.  He didn’t even exist here.  Only this fallen angel, jaded and stunningly flawed, who would _still_ go to the moon and back for him.  No matter how much Dean trampled over him and treated him like dirt under his boot, yet expected devotion even though Cas gave it willingly and freely.

That was why Dean didn’t hesitate when their lips brushed.  For what he’d heard about Cas’ orgies and sexual deviancy and the bullshit Dean had accused him of, he didn’t expect it to be so...sweet?  The way Cas touched Dean’s naked torso, it was in reverie, and when he eventually swiped his tongue along the seal of Dean’s lips, he couldn’t open his mouth fast enough.

The way their tongues brushed, the heated manner of this romantic encounter, the adoration behind the kisses and the caressing wandering hands was something Dean could completely get lost in.  The whole world, hell, every last one of the universes could fade away...  
  
Although logically, Dean knew that he couldn’t push it because of the physical damage he’d just gone through, but he knew that he _needed_ this. Maybe this was for Cas just as much as it was for Dean.    
  
They were two souls, recently fucked over, in the literal _and_ metaphorical sense, who just needed and craved connection.  They were picking up their shattered pieces and desperately trying to put them back together and it worked much better when they were a team.  Castiel and Dean had _always_ worked the best as a team.

It didn’t hurt that they both were actually in love with each other.  It was fascinating because while the feelings were still there and strong in both of them, they were at different stages.  Cas had been burned, scalded, left broken and aching.  Something Dean could never, _ever_ imagine doing to his angel.  It was baffling and heartbreaking and it made Dean nauseous to think about.

Maybe that was part of the reason that, despite the injuries, they were rolling around, hands hot and hips grinding, and Dean hadn’t even realized when the hell that had happened?!  It was unfolding organically.  It wasn’t step-by-step.  One thing just blurred into another and before he knew it, Cas was moaning, “Gonna try and make it up to you,” as he wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock, and he shouted out in pleasure.

“Holy shit, Cas!” Dean gasped as the man swallowed, sucked, and bobbed up and down on his dick.  

Jesus Christ!  Dean was already turned on out of his mind from merely _kissing_ Cas.  It, oh, was just as amazing as he’d dreamed and fantasized about.  Except then, in that next moment when they had been rutting together, Dean whimpering pathetically with his mind wandering, _that_ was the first time he was fucking _livid_.  When he  _felt_ Cas’ impressive erection and...

Damn it, _that_ was supposed to be his first time.  And this Cas didn’t have the ability to heal so they couldn’t even get a do-over to erase the horrible memory.  But this, right now?  Wow...no pun intended, but Dean was blown away by the smooth and euphoria-inducing moves of the angel’s damn mouth…

“Cas, fuck, you feel _so good_!  I-I wish I knew what to do here,” Dean babbled because he didn’t know what else to do, but he needed to say, “I’m so confused.  Not about you. You’re the _only_ thing in this world that makes sense, b-but everything else.  What we should or shouldn’t be doing...what’s right and w-wrong...”

“Does it matter?” His breath was a hot burst over Dean’s pulsing, red and ready-to-blow cock.  “If I can make this up to you?  If I can have a _single_ good memory of you?  I can die happy tomorrow.”

The words were so morbid, but the smile on Castiel’s face was unwavering and blindly genuine.  “Tell me, Dean.  What do you want?  I wish I still had my grace to heal, fuck, this is prime time...but whatever you want, it’s yours.  Say the words.”

Cas kitten-licked his cock, oozing precum from that invitation and he had to take a deep, steadying breath.

“No.”

That stopped Castiel in his tracks and he looked infinitely worried, “Shit.  Did I go too far?  Did I—”

“No, Cas.”  Dean explained with a very firm tone, “What do _you_ want?  It’s yours.  Say the words.”

He looked completely and utterly shocked, which made sense.  He was probably never given a chance in the past, Cas never had a choice in matters involving sex, from what Dean had put together.  Just shoved in bed or up against a wall, table.  The quickest way for the man he loved to use him for his own release.  Now, Cas didn’t _know_ what he wanted.  He’d never thought about it.

“I...” Castiel hesitated. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, Dean.  We were both quite roughed up and I know the bruising and soreness will come in the morning, perhaps—”

“Tell me.  What do you want?”  Dean wasn’t having it.  He wasn’t letting Cas get away.  He was all in at this point and the man’s face conceded defeat.

“Ideally, I would’ve wished to lay you down and made love to you,” Cas finally got over that initial hurdle, which was exactly what they needed.  “Yet, I saw for myself how that barbarian used you like a sick puppet,” he spit out the words and took a deep breath.

Castiel crawled back up the length of Dean’s body and ran his thumb over his swollen, tempting bottom lip.  “What if we turned the tables?  Would you like to lay me out and make love to me?”  Just the sensual pitch, not even the words (oh—that followed soon after), sparked Dean to life.  It was like he finally had second chance to to give this amazing fallen angel everything he deserved, even if it was for one night.  Well.  The second half of the night...

They moved in perfect sync, perfect harmony, and Dean asked when he rolled on top, “You’re gonna let me?”

“I want you to.”  Castiel gestured to the small chest of drawers and said, “Bottom left,” and when Dean moved to grab it, Cas had a chance to take a breather because he was dizzy from the concept.  He was drunk off it and when Dean pulled the lube out he instructed, “Coat your cock.  I’m already stretched, just...make me feel alive again?”

That was a stab to Dean’s chest and although he followed directions and thoroughly lubed up his dick, maybe because of what happened to him, he was trigger shy.  “Are you sure?  I-I _can’t_ hurt you, Cas.  Not with what just happened to me.  I—”

“Oh, sweetheart...” the workings of a mischievous grin bloomed on Cas’ features.  “Why do you think Dean was raving about everyone in camp being loose?  I’ll take my turn and bend over, if someone wishes.  It’s only fair.”

Very suddenly, this was the stark reminder that this wasn’t his Cas and it made him freeze up.  The other man seemed to notice that instantly and he _refused_ to let go of his chance.  With the way Dean was hovered over top, he could plant his heel into the mattress and tilt his pelvis enough to slide Dean’s cock between his cheeks.

_Fuck_ , the sensation...feeling the dip made Dean choke on his own tongue!  And Cas didn’t let up, the little shit.  In fact, he was trying to move his hips for the head of Dean’s cock to catch on his hole, then he could pull him in.  Sure, he could reach out, manhandle him and they’d be furiously rocking together in no time, but the teasing was fun.  Teasing riled Dean up and teasing made everything his choice...something Cas would never, ever take away from him.

“You’re killing me!” Dean whimpered and lashed out to pin Cas’ hips to the bed and the glower helped to hold him there, too.  He took a huge, massive breath and closed his eyes, confirming that he was making the right choice or debating that he was going to mess everything up.

Then, in the next second, he was sliding into Cas’ hot (but as promised, not clenching, unforgiving tight rim) body and he unabashedly shouted out, “Dean!  Oh God—”

The fact that he used the word “God” so flippantly now proved that he didn’t have faith.  But Dean had faith in _him_ more than anyone.  As he began rocking, the touches and random kisses mimicked the previous soft yet passionate ones.  It came _so easily_.  It was a continuation of the connection that brought them here without thought.

It brought them to make love.

“Cas,” Dean panted knowing he was getting close and the fire burning in Cas’ eyes told a similar story. “When did you know?”

“W-what?”  The words were being fucked out of him and if Dean wanted an answer, he’d have to pause the assault on Cas’ prostate—although that was the very, _very_ last thing that he wanted.  “When did I kn-know that I loved you?”

Dean’s eyes were imploring.  He wanted to make sure he didn’t move too quickly, ruining something that was still blooming, but he had no idea.  Castiel sat up a bit, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and hauled him forward so their lips collided.  Through the moans and the coils about to spring loose into orgasm, Dean grabbed Cas’ cock and that electric touch was almost an instant trigger.

Except, Cas managed to say with pure sincerity, “Dean...I knew I loved you the moment I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.  You have nothing to fear.  I—” His words became unintelligible, different variations of Dean’s name in different pitches, lengths mixed in with curses as he spilled his release over both their bodies.

While Cas may have done this time and time again, this was Dean’s first glimpse.  Giving his angel pleasure, overwhelming him in every way, seeing what makes him tick.  But more than anything, the fireworks of a show when Cas was in the thralls of rapture?  There was no way Dean could ever, _ever_ forget that.  It was his wildest dream come to life and watching Cas made him choke up, movements jerky.

“Yes,” Cas praised, still a bit hazy, but he was thrusting to meet Dean’s hips as he brushed the hair away from his face.  “So good, so fucking good.  Now how about you cum for me?  Cum inside me—know I’ve always _, will always,_ be yours.”

After a few more desperate, wild, and passionate kisses, Dean was pouring into Cas.  He was feeling no pain from the prelude.  He had pushed it to the back burner and was planning to forget because being with Castiel?  Angel or no?  It was _bliss_.  They were tangled up in each other, smiling, happy, and vibrating with joy.

Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off Dean when he said, “Dean, thank you.  That’s all I’ve ever wanted in my existence on Earth.  To be held like that, like _this_.  To feel like I actually meant something.  As thought I had," he trailed off and said the word as though it was in a foreign language, "...worth.”

“Fuck,” Dean cursed because that pained him on a bone-deep level.  “I wish I could take you back with me.  Get you away from all this.  You deserve so much more.  You’re—”

“Hush.  Don’t even entertain that thought, all right?” Cas admonished gently, his leg running up and down Dean’s calf.  “I don’t want to ruin anything for a _me_ who can get a chance with a _you_ who’s this fantastic.  You’re a wonderful person, Dean.  Hold onto that, please.  Never, _ever_ let it go.”

Their eyes lingered because Cas was right.  Dean _did_ have an angel at home and seeing what this one had become?  He couldn’t let this happen.  This end game would happen over Dean’s dead fucking body.  The conviction of his vow (he meant it, damn it!) was the only thing that he could offer Cas.  The promise of him, in a different life—  
  
Happy.

“I won’t fuck it up,” he urgently swore aloud.  “I just wish I could do something for _you_.  I’d do anything for you.  The last thing I want to do is leave you like this in this universe.  It’s Hell, and I know something about the pit, remember?”

A warm if not slightly playful grin appeared when Castiel stated, “You already have done something for me, Dean.  I told you: this was a first for me and I’ll treasure it.  Whether I have one day, a week, a year.  If there’s even a possibility that we could win this, I won’t be visualizing that snowball's chance.  I’ll be remembering what it feels like to be apart of a universe where we don’t wait until it’s too late.  Where I don’t have to pray to a deaf God—asking, _begging,_ him to send a sign that I was a good son who could help, that I was wanted.  Because with you?  I _was_ wanted.”

“You always will be.  Even when I go, remember that.”  He brought Cas’ hand up and kissed his knuckles.  “Still don’t know when I’m going to zap away.  But _please_.  This was special.  It was...it mean something to me, somethin' big. It’s not just you.”

Cas’ grin turned lopsided and he agreed, “I will remember.  Shall we sleep?  Tomorrow will be a long day.  Hopefully, we can warn the team before the number of casualties skyrocket.”

“I’ll be right besides you, telling them how it is.  Hopefully, my words'll make them doubt their fearless leader.”  Dean allowed himself to get wrapped up in the illusion and kissed the man goodnight with a, “Sweet dreams, Cas.  I love you,” because he knew he _could_ and hopefully he was doing much more good than harm.    
  
Hell, Dean  _knew_ he was.  Castiel was three seconds away from throwing in the towel when he arrived.  Maybe, just maybe, this was what would keep him fighting.

“I love you, too.  Across time and circumstance.”  He pulled Dean closer to him.  “Good night.”

Dean was out like a light.  Everything that had happened, (starting at midnight) included the good, the bad and the _horrific_.  So long as he could make it out, he wanted to ask a favor of _his_ angel: to zap that memory right out of his head.  There was no space for it, but how could he tell Cas that he wanted to remember the rest without giving himself away?  Without...giving this Cas and their time together up?  Dean would come up with something—he had to.

\------------------------------

Damn it!   _Everything_ was going to hell!  Just like Dean had suspected!  It was by the book: an uncanny recreation of what had happened the last time Sam and their Dad had worked the game board.  But this mess was so much fucking worse!

When he and Cas had come at the team with the news, it looked like Dean's Evil Twin had prepped them with words of the two colluding.  About some kind of goddamn conspiracy theories of  _this_ Dean wanting to rise to power, attempting to take over.  Why the hell would he want that?!  Actually...Dean would give it to him, it may have been a smart move on this dick-hole’s part because he could see the loyalists eating it right up.  Like political vultures on the campaign trail, voting for one Dean or the other.  
  
Yeah, Dean knew himself _and_ his charisma, too.  It wasn’t meant to be haughty.  It was just a fact and future-him had most likely honed it as a weapon of manipulation.    
  
They never stood a chance.  Last night was an epic failure.  Everything was for fucking _nothing_!  Well...besides being with Cas.  Dean wouldn’t have traded that for the world—  

One by one, after Dean had gotten pistol whipped and ended up KO’d, he awoke to the sound of gunfire.

“No, no, no!” he chanted to himself and kicked his way through the brush to see bodies.

Teammates, demons, Croats alike.  God, it was a field of carnage.  The right next to the bullshit scheme’s final step was Castiel.  Slumped over and eerily still.  Dean didn’t even look for signs of enemy life.  He knew damn well he was protected for this stupid Michael thing by the angels so he didn’t give a shit if it was reckless!

He slid the remaining few feet of distance, grabbing Cas’ face and giving him a couple assertive pats on the cheek, praying aloud, “No!  You don’t get to die today!  Please, fuckin’ Zachariah! I’ve learned by lesson!  Just help Cas!” Dean shouted upward to the sky.

“He’s a cruel angel, Dean.  Not only have I disobeyed them and joined your forces, but I’ve fallen.  He w-won’t take any pity—”  A coughing fit erupted from Cas’ trembling form and so much blood stained the sleeve he used to cover his mouth.

Internal bleeding.  This was _not okay..._

“Can you hang in there?  Please?  I need to see if the Colt will kill Lucifer.  I’ll be right back please.  Wait for me,” Dean’s voice was shaking and he tried to hold back the terror as he kissed Cas soundly.

It sounded more like appeasement when Cas agreed, “I’ll be here, Dean.  This is important.  It will help you in your time, if it works.  Go!”

But it didn’t.

The asshole’s neck was snapped just as Dean rolled up and— _holy shit—_ seeing his brother like _this_?  None of Sam was left.  Not even the ghost of a shadow.  There was instant haunting interest and excitement directed right at Dean.

“Oh, am I seeing double, here?”  The Devil, wearing his brother, took confident strides forward.  “Not a shifter, not a ghoul...I’d say you’re _really_ Dean-o.  Well, this entire thing _stinks_ of angels.  Time travel, I suspect?”

“Sammy,” Dean urged as he looked into the hazel eyes, dancing with amusement, “You can cast him out, okay?  He’s already taken out half of the globe!  Everything is fucked up!  Soon, you won’t be able to live here either!  What’s the point?  What’s the point of Lucifer's tantrum and you riding it out with him?!”

“Family!”  Lucifer didn’t seem all that bothered by the rapid-fire insults and watched Dean, “I thought you, of all people, could relate.  Brothers going at it, not in a sexy way.  Daddy choosing his favorite, telling the others to take a hike into the bowels of Hell.  You know, the usual.  Now,” he closed in on Dean, studying his aura to note, “Yes, as I figured...angelic warding.  Do you need any more information to bring back?  Because I can tell you one, _very_ important thing.”

“Okay,” Dean allowed Lucifer to circle, the archangel feeling it necessary to assert his dominance or whatever the fuck he was doing in his brother’s body.  “What’s so important?”

“No matter what timeline.  No matter happens in-between.  I’ll still be here.  Sammy will say yes each and every single time.  We’ll _always_ end up here,” Lucifer announced into the rose garden, extending his arms broadly to theatrically show off the scene.

Dean knew he was wrong.  He knew that his brother was _damn_ strong and—

Wait!  The scenery!  The rose garden, Sammy, even the water rushing from the fountain...    
  
Everything began contorting, like reality itself was bending, and that’s when Dean realized that it _truly was_ : this was his cue.  
  
This was his “Time’s Up’” card but— 

No!  He _needed_ to get back to Cas!    
  
Dean turned his back on Lucifer (a stupid fucking move in retrospect) to sprint to where he’d left him.  The world was projecting like an old, worn-out VHS tape playing: parts black and white, others completely scratched with static.  It was hard to see the ground because of the discord and it was a guess as to whether or not it was even there.  Dean was moving forward, _fast_ , with pure instinct and gut-wrenching need.  
  
He could finally see Cas’ form.  Frozen.  But Dean didn’t know if that was part of the reality shifting, getting stuck on a frame in the picture, or this was still real!  But before he could dive and grab Cas and scoop him up, Dean was—

Back to his timeline?   _Fuck_!

And, naturally, Zachariah was waiting with his stupid face and over-the-top expressions.  “What, exactly, were you hoping for with that little snatch and grab at the end, Dean-o?  As the curtain closes to Hell on Earth, you rush back to see your little fallen seraph?  Ack...Castiel is becoming more and more of a problem. I swear to our Father, I—”

“If you even _think_ of threatening him?  I’ll make this vessel uninhabitable.  I’ll carve myself with scars, with sigils for blood sacrifice rituals, makin’ me a locked box!  If you don’t believe, _try me,”_ he growled and the second things were heating up, Dean was disorientated all over again.

Yet, this one was comforting.  It was familiar.  And he couldn’t wait to get away from that smarmy angel and back to where he belonged.

Dean ended up with Castiel’s.   _His_ Castiel’s.  With the gentle hand on his shoulder, that tilted head and...innocence.    
  
This angel was still full of fight, full of hope, and, Dean prayed—full of love.  No, his Cas wasn’t jaded.  He wasn’t shunned, and goddammit, if Dean had anything to do with it, the angel would never experience any of those things again!  Not in this timeline, not in his universe!  He’d see to it!

“Pretty good timing, Cas,” Dean commented and when the angel’s hand dropped from his shoulder.  The moment the tough was gone, he knew what to do.  Dean realized he needed to make this happen and he took Cas’ hand into his on reflex.

Castiel barely flinched, although he looked inquisitive, but he still replied, “We had an appointment.”

With the words “don’t ever change” on the tip of his tongue, Dean knew this was it.  Time to squash that and say what he needed to say.  Every version of Castiel was one that he knew he’d love.  And _this_ angel happened to be the one he needed to make it with for the long haul.  Dean wanted it so badly.   _Let’s do this._

“Yeah, we did have an appointment.”  Dean squeezed his hand before he decided to ask, “So what’s it going to take?”

Castiel squinted, Dean leaving the words vague for a reason.  “For...the case?”

“Nah,” he took a step in, knowing Cas had no sense of personal space anyway so this wouldn’t set off any alarm bells as it would with a human.  “What’s it going to take to make _us_ work?  I want to be with you, Cas.”  Dean hoped the other Cas hadn’t been lying about knowing when he rescued him from hell, because Dean went right ahead and dropped the bomb without hesitation. “I’m falling in love with you.”

“I—” Cas stuttered and stumbled, but didn’t pull away.  “I was not expecting this.  You...aren’t ‘joking’ or ‘messing with me,’ correct?”  He narrowed his eyes, daring Dean to admit it.  
  
While he may have felt a little slighted by the accusation, Dean _could_ see where the angel was coming from.  Especially since Cas was still trying to understand humanity and such.  The question was also legitimate because of Dean’s extravagant-straight-conquest stories and hetero-jokes and, well, _overcompensating._

“Ain’t no joking matter,” Dean continued to move forward and pressed their foreheads together. “What do you think?”

He could feel those intense blue eyes boring holes into him while he was staring down at their joined hands.  He loved how they looked like this.  Yeah, he could get used to it.

“I think...as long as you’re serious, your...feelings may be reciprocated.”  Castiel was careful, and rightfully so.  It was hard these days. You _had_ to guard your heart and it was a helluva lot harder to be vulnerable.

“Will you let me kiss you, Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft.  After all, the last image he had of the angel was slumped over, dead, after a kamikaze mission.  He needed to know that he was real.  "Please?"

Instead of verbal confirmation, Dean was surprised as hell was Cas closed the distance himself, kissed him and the floodgates opened.  If the intent and fire behind his lips and the tongue licking inside Dean’s mouth was anything to go by, Cas must have felt this way for a while. And  _damn it!_ Dean just thought the assertive sex part was because of how Cas was all boozed up and popping pills at the end, using sex as another escape.

Nope!  It looked like, for an angel—well, for anyone—Castiel was amazingly forward, seductive, and delivered sheer, unbridled passion.  Dean was grabbing purchase on the trench coat that he missed in no time, hauling them closer.

There was a rude awakening when a car honked and drove by, forcing them to part and Dean to muse, “Shit.  Bad location, huh?”

“How would you like to proceed?” Castiel raised a bold eyebrow, going as far as tracing his finger over the bulge on Dean’s pants.  It made him whimper, even the slightest bit more pressure would make him weak in the knees, damn it!  “Following our lead?  Or...take a break?  It’s up to your discretion.”

Dean chewed his lip, trying to make this plausible without getting in trouble or being worried about what happened before, but real-angel-Cas was a blessing and it would help him make a better choice.  “Hey, I got the shit kicked out of me in this alternate future.  Can you just give me a fix-up?”

“Of course,” Castiel didn’t hesitate. “You’ll have to fill me in on this...alternate future.  Time travel is always noteworthy.”

What made things even better was instead of that two-finger fix up, Cas softly kissed Dean’s cheek, his grace beginning there and radiating outward.  It flowed through his body and Dean could physically feel his ribs, his face, and, oh yes, something a little further down south all felt like brand-new.  That was something he was gonna leave out of his alternate future story.  This, though...it was the kick in the ass, the _motivation,_ he needed and they walked a little ways back from the road so they weren’t right in the line of traffic and prying eyes.

“Tell me,” Dean began with his voice pitched a little on the raunchy side.  “If you could do anything with me?  Or to me right now, what would it be?”

Castiel thought carefully about his answer as he normally did, weighing the pros and cons.  Then he came to a conclusion.

“I want to spread you out on the bed, Dean.  And I want to make love to you.  Will you let me?” his timbre was impossibly lower and it gave Dean’s cock another pulse.

This time he could avidly agree, “Hell yeah, fly us into a room, babe.”

_This_ was his do-over.  Cas’ wide smile and the way he moved would make Dean forget everything.

The future couldn’t have shown him more of the things he needed to change.    
  
Dean had needed to make a move to be with Cas.  He needed to _reconnect_ with Sammy.  They needed to be a family again.  But right now, having the first, real awesome encounter with a gentle lover with a hidden wild side?  It was the perfect combination.  Dean patted himself on the back for going through with it, his confession, the second he saw his angel again.

He wouldn’t trade this for anything. Now that they were on round two, the thrill of getting together (and the extra boost of angelic grace), multiple orgasms, and knowing that they were each others in this battle for Heaven and Hell, it felt more concrete, like they had a chance.

It wasn’t as though Dean ever felt alone, but now he felt _invincible_.  He wasn’t scared of anything—he'd never turn into that asshole he'd witnessed in the future.  Not with the love and support surrounding him.  Oh, Zachariah had fucked up more than he even knew because his little “test” had led to something that may had never happened before it was too late.  Now, they were on the course for greatness, and it was right on time.


End file.
